Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 89878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“Hello. Earth to Georgia.”
I blink, meeting Noah’s gaze. “What?”
“What do you mean? Did you hear anything I just said?”
Shit. “Sorry. I was—”
“What’s up with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Is it your mom? Did you ever talk to—”
I come to an abrupt stop, spinning to face him. “Honestly, Noah, we’re not doing this,” I snap, my patience hanging on by a thread.
His eyes narrow and whatever concern he had instantly replaced with irritation. “Seriously, George, what the fuck is your problem?” He throws his hands up. “You bitch that I’m an asshole, then bitch when I try not to be an asshole. I’m starting to think you were the problem in this relationship.”
His words hit like a slap, but I refuse to flinch.
Shaking his head, he scoffs and storms ahead into the salesroom, leaving me standing there, fists clenched and heart pounding.
I don’t immediately follow him, his words knocking me off my axis a bit. I’m not the problem, am I? No, I won’t let him turn this around on me. We’re both fucked up, that’s apparent. At least I can admit it. Face my demons. He runs from his. Denial is a bitch. One day, he’ll realize that.
The day unfolds much like yesterday—training, followed by lunch where Noah plays pretend, acting as if nothing is messed up, as if we’re just another happy, normal couple. I let him have his illusion, swallowing my frustration.
When five o’clock rolls around, I’m surprised to find him actually waiting for me.
The ride home is silent, tension thick in the air. I keep my gaze fixed on the window, watching the blur of the city as my thoughts scatter.
Maybe a swim in their pool will help. Something to clear my head, to settle the storm brewing inside me. Anything to make me think straight.
“Fuck.”
“What?” I pull my attention from the window as Noah tosses his phone back into the cupholder of his car.
“My fucking dad. He wants us to meet him for dinner.” He starts typing off a message.
“What are you saying?”
“Telling him no—”
“Why is it such a bad thing?”
Noah twists his head, narrowing his eyes at me. “Because it’s a joke. He’s an asshole and doesn’t deserve these father/son sit-downs. They’re just a ploy.”
“Have you ever thought maybe he wants to make amends with you?”
He pins me with a scowl. “You giving me life advice, George? Thought we weren’t allowed to go there—or are the rules different when it comes to you?”
He’s got me there. I drop the subject and stare out the window again. When I can’t take the uncomfortable silence, I ask, “Why does everything have to be a fight between us?”
Noah lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry. I have a lot of shit going on with my dad. And it’s not that easy. I’m sure you can say the same with your mom.”
I look back to Noah. “I don’t wanna spend the whole summer fighting with you. You’re right. I’m going to go back to school. Work something out there—”
“No. You’re not fucking doing that.”
“But I can’t stay here either,” I admit.
“George, I don’t want you to go. I get it. We’re done. I mean, I don’t. And I’m having a hard time accepting it, but I don’t want you to leave. I’ll back off. Give you space.”
I want to believe him—that he can separate our messy past from the situation we’re in now. That we can exist in the same space without tearing each other apart.
But I also know I need to take a step back. Stop pointing fingers like I’m some innocent bystander in all this. I’m not.
Guilt coils tight in my chest, burning like acid. How could I have done what I did with his dad? The weight of it presses down on me, suffocating. It’s beyond wrong. And worse? The way I can’t stop thinking about it. The way my mind twists it into something I crave rather than something I regret.
It’s fucked up. All of it.
And if Noah ever found out… it would destroy him. He would hate me.
But what haunts me more is what it would do to them—to their already fragile and fractured relationship. If I shattered what little was left between them… could I live with that?
“George, I mean it. Please…”
Noah mistakes my guilt for uncertainty. “No, I believe you. And I’m sorry, too. You’re right. I’m no less fucked up than you are. I guess that’s why we worked so well.”
He reaches over and grabs my hand. “We can still work.”
No, we can’t. Not after what I’ve done. “Noah…”
He lets go and takes his hand back, shutting off the car. “I know. How about we settle for friends?”
I offer him a gentle smile. “Friends.”
“Fuck buddies?”
“Noah—”
“Kidding. I’m gonna miss it, though. You’re a really great fuck.”
“Noah!” I slap his shoulder.
He laughs. “What? It’s true. Bedtime has always been my favorite. Even just sleeping. You have this way about you that gets me to sleep.”